


A Thin Veneer

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Federal Agents, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Challenge Response, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's a cop with a desk job. His life is neat, orderly, predictable, and he likes it that way. But when he meets Jensen, that order is thrown into a whirlwind of shade and uncertainty, and Jared isn't sure he'll be able to find his way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thin Veneer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://raise-the-knife.livejournal.com/profile)[**raise_the_knife**](http://raise-the-knife.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/profile)[**spnspringfling**](http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/) exchange. Originally posted [here](http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/63969.html)

Jared's got a rhythm going. Scan scan scan check initial flip. He's been at it for nearly three hours now, the same procedure over and over again, and there's still a small mountain's worth of stacked print-outs to get through. It's tedious and hypnotic to the point of madness, but it's also a part of the job he's managed to come to terms with, and these bank records aren't going to sort themselves.

It's true he officially has the title of 'Special Agent', but for the most part he doesn't feel like what he does is deserving of it. He'd been gunning for a field work position when he'd first entered the academy, he'd done everything required of him in every training exercise they'd thrown at him, but the very first actual case he'd been assigned to – to say it'd gone balls-up wouldn't quite cover it. There'd been other more experienced agents with him, of course, but the perpetrators had pulled guns on them without warning, and when faced with that situation on his first real life case, Jared had frozen up quicker than a pork chop dumped in liquid nitrogen, training be damned.

No one had told him it would be 'one strike, you're out', but after two of the agents involved had suffered debilitating wounds - at least one of which was due to his failure to act – he hadn't been surprised when they'd sent him for the obligatory psych evaluation and then 'demoted' him to the white collar crimes division. That had been a number of years ago, and he'd never had the nerve to tell his family or friends the real reason why'd he'd transferred. Jared hadn't let it stand in his way though, and now he was the division's star case closer in mortgage fraud.

He'd found early on that mortgage fraud was considered the pits (despite all the other types of fraud they investigated) and a number of his co-workers continued poking him in the ribs about it even now. Not to mention they were forever asking him why he was lumped with what was as good as a desk job when he was built like a brick shithouse (or so he'd been told), but he always just laughed it off, joking that he was too pretty to be out on the streets.

It took Jared well into the afternoon to get all the way through the required pile of financials, but he was feeling particularly cross-eyed once he'd finished, so felt no qualms about clocking out at five o'clock on the dot. He'd go home, have a beer and some leftover Chinese from the fridge, watch some TV before bed, then get up the next day to do it all over again.

Maybe he _should_ have been more crazy than he was, such was the repetitiveness of his routine, but he was used to it now. Jared didn't consider himself a spontaneous guy, and the sameness had become somewhat of a comfort – there was nothing wrong with liking a little predictably, right?

~

When Jared clocked in of a morning, he had another routine he liked to follow. He'd go straight to the kitchenette, prepare himself a coffee in his favourite 'Secret Agent' mug, before moving to his desk, dropping down onto his ergonomically-fashioned wheelie chair, and staring across at the near-empty desk across from him. There was a desk organiser there that he'd been contemplating stealing for some time, and a framed photo of a happy nuclear family and their dog – the desk had belonged to Richard before he'd moved interstate, and he'd left the photo there simply because he knew Jared liked to look at it.

That morning however, not only is Jared's favourite mug missing from the cupboard, but when he sits down at his desk he finds the opposite one to be scattered with papers and other objects. More importantly the photo is gone, and a strange man is sitting there with his back to Jared. Admittedly he considers asking the guy if he wants the desk organiser, but he stops himself, knowing logically that it's petty and ridiculous. That's when Chief Morgan motions Jared into his office with the crook of a finger.

"No doubt you've noticed the newbie over there," Morgan voices it as a statement, knowing well that Jared isn't one for overlooking small details, "I want you to keep an eye out for him. He's been transferred here from Organised Crime."

Jared ponders that a moment. "He's not a newbie at all, is he?"

Morgan smirks. "Nope. Far from it. Special Agent Ackles has been undercover for the past couple of years. Some things came to a head recently and it ended pretty bad. He escaped any real physical harm but mentally he's a bit… well, that's yet to be determined."

"So they've sent him here for something a little more low-key."

"That's the gist of it. Likely he'll be a bit out of it at first – distant, quiet, and the like. But Jared, if there's anything I've learnt about you it's that you can drag a smile outta anybody. Just be nice to the guy, you're good at that. Try and make him feel more comfortable or something."

"Sure."

~

He doesn't do anything straight off the bat, but Jared eventually drums up the courage to introduce himself. It takes some coaxing, but Ackles eventually turns enough to mumble out a 'call me Jensen', before turning back to whatever file was in front of him.

Being early in the game, Jared counts it as a win.

He spends the next few days just watching more than anything – he has more mortgage fraud cases he should be looking into, but there is _always_ more cases, they never stopped, and sussing out more about 'call me Jensen' somehow feels like more of an actual case than anything he's worked on in years. Jared also notices that his co-workers seem to avoid Ackles like the plague unless they have to pass him some papers or a file, but whether that's due to Morgan having said something to them, or merely because of Jensen's general 'fuck off' vibe, Jared isn't sure.

By the end of the first week Jared has spied and eavesdropped enough to know precisely how he takes his coffee, but also that he never seems to eat. So on the way to work the next morning he picks up something for both Jensen and himself, and marches into the office, plonking down the coffee cup and a bagel onto Jensen's desk. The other Agent tenses – Jared can see the change occur across the line of his shoulders – before angling his head in order to stare at the offerings. He clears his throat.

"Thanks for the coffee," Ackles rasps, pointing to the bagel, "But I don't—"

"You will eat it," Jared interrupts, waving a finger at the other man not unlike the way his mother used to do to him, "And you will _like it_."

Jared then swivels on his heels and makes his way to his own desk. He can't be sure, but he thinks there might have been the beginnings of a grin curling the edges of Jensen's mouth. And even if he was seeing things, he feels good about it all the same. He carries on observing throughout the morning, his eyes boring holes in the back of Jensen's head, until he finally gets the message and unwraps the bagel, taking two bites before putting it down again.

They're well into the game by now – Jared considers this one a resounding win.

~

Nearly a month has passed when something changes.

Up until that point Jared had been plying Jensen with regular coffees and the occasional bagel, and even managed to drag him out to lunch once the week prior. The other Agent hadn't yet 'opened up' as such, but Jared _had_ been able to glean a couple of fully formed sentences from him, and more and more often he was catching glimpses of those striking forest-green eyes that Jensen somehow kept skilfully hidden away the majority of the time.

But when Jensen takes a call on his cell one morning, Jared can tell immediately that something isn't right, and not just because the other Agent doesn’t inhale his coffee like he usually does – rather, he barely touches it. No, Jared knows because he's spent more time than is probably healthy just staring at Jensen's back while he sits at his desk, mapping the shift of muscles beneath his business shirt any time he moves or twists in his seat. He knows the shape of his haircut – was able to tell he'd had a trim a little over a week ago – and he knows the general array of his moods because while Jensen doesn't express all that much with his words, he doesn't have to when Jared reads everything he needs to in his body language.

That's how he knows that after taking said phone call Jensen isn't in a good place. His shoulders are hunched over and tense, there's a single tendon straining visibly on the left side of his neck, and his fists are clenched where they sit on either side of his keyboard. After a moment, Jared watches him rip the top sheet off a notepad – something he'd scribbled down during the call – and Ackles grabs his jacket and disappears from the office so swiftly it makes Jared's head spin.

He knows he shouldn't pry, but Jared's a worrier, so he moves to Jensen's desk, grabs a pencil, and does a rubbing over the top sheet of the notepad. It reveals two sets of initials, a time, and the abbreviation 'DOA'. Jared looks toward the elevators and his heart sinks. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever Jensen had been involved in _before_ , he hasn't left it alone like he should have done.

It occurs to Jared that whatever he's been trying to do – buying Jensen coffees and bagels and taking him to lunch – if there's any real meaning behind it barring an attempt to make the guy feel 'comfortable', then it can't be a game anymore. The mental tally he's been keeping of all the times he's lured Jensen out of his shell for a moment, he has to let all that go because Jensen's involved in something far bigger than anything in Jared's life can compare to.

If Jared goes after him, it has to be for something bigger than his childish little ploys for some kind of interaction. There won't be any winners this time.

~

He traces Jensen back to his home. His _actual_ home.

Earlier that day Jared had called to collect on several favours he was owed, and he'd read up on the smuggling and prostitution ring Jensen had been involved in investigating. Not to mention the other agents he'd worked closely with, and the people he was trying to protect. Apparently his team had gone through with another raid the previous day and two more undercover agents had been killed.

Jared found details of Jensen's former residence, and realised that in order to protect him, the Agency had stuck him in a hotel so they could keep an eye on his whereabouts. Jared understood their reasoning, but he also understood Jensen's need for escape.

Which is how he finds himself outside Jensen's front door. He tries to sneak a look in through the window, but everything is dark and there's no sign of movement. He tries the doorknob and finds it unlocked, so he lets himself in. After a quick look around he discovers Jensen in the bedroom, sitting on the carpet at the foot of the bed, a half-empty bottle of brown liquor in hand.

"Jensen?"

He doesn't look at Jared, but nor does he protest when Jared takes a seat beside him.

"I feel like I'm living a lie," Jensen eventually says, his voice rough, "Ever since they pulled me from the field, it's like… I left my soul there or something. Normal things don't feel real. _I_ don't feel real."

"But you can't go back there."

Jensen shakes his head, resigned. "But after the raid last night, they reckon they've got enough evidence. They're pulling the investigation altogether. It's been too costly."

"Understandable."

"It probably wouldn't matter even if I had still been involved. Coming out of long-term undercover like that, everything just…"

"Feels like a lie," Jared finishes.

"Yeah."

Jensen sighs and takes another swig from the bottle before putting it down. Then he turns to Jared, piercing green eyes looking at him - _really_ looking at him – for the first time. Jared feels pinned in place.

"But you're not a lie, are you?" Jensen breathes, reaching out to touch Jared's face, "You're here and you're the most real thing…"

Jared wants to ask 'the most real thing _what?_ but suddenly his lips are occupied, a hand on the back of his head is drawing him forward and pushing him deeper against Jensen's mouth. He wants to fight it, but at the same time he doesn't, and as their tongues touch he drinks in the sharp taste of alcohol and pushes it aside, reaching for Jensen's taste alone. He's grateful that he finds it quickly, but more so that Jensen hasn't had so much to drink that he's soaked in it.

Things get heated – jackets peeled off, shirts unbuttoned – and when Jared feels a hand slip under his waistband it finally registers that this is really happening and that _fucking hell_ , he hasn't been with anyone since he was still training at the academy. Jensen must sense his hesitation because he stops.

"I promise I'm not drunk. But… please," he says lightly, though the brief crack in his voice reveals his desperation, "It's been a long time since it was… good."

Jared can't bear to think of the connotations of that right now, so he tugs Jensen onto the bed and pushes him onto his back, crawling atop him so he can look down from above. And he can't look away.

"I'm real. You're real. This is real. As well as reckless and dangerous and Morgan's totally going to be on my case for skipping out in the middle of the day – which I _never_ do – but it's been a long time since I honestly took something for myself… And my fascination with you, some might call it unhealthy, but it's not without base, I promise. So, if it's okay…?"

Something inside Jensen seems to let go at that, Jared can see it as if it were a tangible thing. And then Jensen nods his agreement, pulling Jared out from behind his own veneer, down hard against his body.

When Jensen touches him again, he realises just how real it really is.


End file.
